


Causality

by cadkitten



Category: DC Cinematic Universe RPF
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Explicit Consent, Frottage, M/M, Masturbation, Muscles, Narcissism, Rough Kissing, Rough Sex, Sexual Roleplay, Tongues, method acting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-10
Updated: 2016-04-10
Packaged: 2018-06-01 11:54:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6517624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cadkitten/pseuds/cadkitten
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ben watched Henry's eyes slide down his body, let his vanity override sanity and flexed his cock so that it was straining against the fabric. His arms slid over the back of the couch, spreading and making him look a million times more relaxed than he really felt. There was the always the chance he was reading this wrong, that Henry would hate him forever for putting him on the spot like this; but there was <i>also</i> the chance that he was reading it <i>very</i> correctly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Causality

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TimmyJaybird](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TimmyJaybird/gifts).



> I've been trying to find something to write you for a long while now. This one's so 1000% happening. ♥  
> Song[s]: "Toguro" by Dir en grey

The door to the trailer clanged shut, the echo of it making Ben wince. Some things never changed... in this case that meant the wind on set had been unyielding for days now, forcing them into repeating scene after scene until they could be heard and didn't look like they were being blown over by winds they'd sincerely not expected to find in the midst of New Mexico.

Pushing pieces of his costume off, leaving them scattered across the bolted-down table, he eased himself down onto the couch that took up nearly one whole wall of the trailer and tipped his head back. It'd been a difficult week, but he couldn't say it wasn't worth it. Everyone on set had been having a hell of a good time, even with the repeats of scenes and even with the random things getting blown away here and again. Besides, at times it gave the capes a nice wind-swept look, even if that look didn't look so great on anyone else trying to work on the damn thing. 

Reaching up, he unfastened the top two buttons on his shirt and then unfastened the cuffs, rolling them up. They had an hour or so before the weather radar said they might be breeze-free - though calling it a breeze was laughable - for another stretch of time. If nothing else he was thankful technology had come far enough to predict such things and ever more thankful to the people who had built the little domes across the globe to aid in such predictions. 

He eased down on the couch a bit more and breathed out a sigh, letting his hands trail down the shirt, opening button after button and then un-tucking it, letting it fall open. Sweet relief from the confines of the damn thing... though he got it, he really did. Tighter shirts meant showing off the body he'd gone through utter hell for. Hell he'd hated, really. Nothing in the world made him want to exercise this much ever again. Granted, a few scenes were going to look killer with his newly formed muscles, but he wasn't sure he'd ever felt such agony before.

Almost absently, his hand drifted down over his abdomen, feeling the structure he's spent so long sculpting, a small ghost of a smile sliding over his lips. Okay, so he'd taken pictures; vanity be damned, because if he was honest, he'd never felt _turned on_ when he looked in the mirror. Until now. And now? He most definitely did. Even a glance post-shower in the mornings left him with his hands wandering and his body burning. Shifting, he let himself gaze down the length of his body and he breathed out a little huff of a laugh. What would anyone say if they knew he was getting hard off of thinking about how his body looked? Narcissistic... vain... he could hear the words now. But the thing was, he couldn't bring himself to care what anyone else thought about what he did - or did not - do while he was alone. 

He gave a slow rock of his hips, watching the way his thighs stretched the fabric of his slacks... lifted his ass off the couch and made a sensual circle with his hips, watching the definition in his abdominal muscles change. Dropping back down to the sofa, he let his head fall back again, hands dragging up his thighs, pressing hard enough to ignite the fire within him. His hands reached his belt and he was unfastening it without thinking, without focusing on anything other than what he knew he desperately wanted to do now. He still had _at least_ an hour and hell if he wasn't going to spend some of it on time with himself. Not when he could get worked up like this again and again.

The belt jangled as he unfastened it and he released a soft groan as he unfastened the button and lowered the zipper on his pants, giving himself a bit more breathing room for his rapidly swelling cock. He spared it a single glance as he grasped himself through the fabric of the tight navy briefs they had him wearing under these slacks. Everything else had made lines across the legs of the tight pants and they'd finally tossed him the package and told him a few days wasn't going to kill him. He'd been sure it would at first, but now, he sort of liked the bulge it formed, how it did its best to mimic the way a jock cupped him while he was in the Batman suit, and it reminded him just _who_ Bruce Wayne was when he was filming.

One hand grabbed and squeezed hard at his cock again before he lifted the waistband of the briefs and slid his hand inside. The instant skin met skin, his hips jerked and a strangled sort of sound left him as he began to stroke. Nothing could have stopped him right then. He was sure they could have banged on his door and he'd have just kept right on jerking himself off. He took in a shuddering breath and pushed his hips up, rocking against his hand as he kept after himself. 

Pleasure swelled up through him and he let himself gasp for it, let his breath come in harsh little pants as he went harder at himself. His free hand finally pulled the material back for a moment, giving him a good look at what he was doing, at the way he was fucking up into his fist, at the way pre-cum was already starting to form at the slit. Wetting his lips, he tilted his head back again and let go of the waistband, letting it cover what he was doing again. Something about doing this in the clothing Bruce Wayne was going to be wearing on camera made it dirtier and he wasn't about to let that feeling go any time soon. 

He pushed his free hand against the sofa, helping him arch up as he moved his hand quicker, a quiet hiss of, "Yes," sliding past his lips as he did. Looking down again, he watched the movement of his hand in his underwear, watched the way once in a while the head of his cock peeked out from under the elastic band. His balls already felt tight and he knew if he wasn't careful, he was going to cum soon - too soon. But nothing about that fact could get him to stop. Instead, he only gripped himself tighter, his hips jerking hard against his hand now, using his strength to his advantage to fuck his fist from this position. The all-too-familiar clench of impending orgasm started and he forced himself to breathe through it, forced his hand to keep moving even as those muscles tensed up. And God help him, he was going to... he was-

The door clanged open again and it took everything in him not to lose it in that exact moment, from both the intensity of pleasure and from the sheer shock of being walked in on. Not once in his entire life had he _actually_ been caught and now, here he was, a grown man getting caught jerking off in his trailer on break. _At work_. That made it all that much worse. 

The sound of the door slamming shut dropped him back down against the couch, his hand yanking free of his briefs as he scrambled to get himself adjusted enough that the damn slacks would zip back up. He gave a silent prayer to the universe that if he got cut any slack at all, it wouldn't be someone who'd think him a horrible disgusting pervert for this. Anyone _anyone_ who would maybe think it either hilarious or - perhaps - arousing was more than welcome to be the person who'd walked in, but _please_ not someone who'd hate him forever for it. Or worse... _talk_ about it to everyone else.

Giving up on the pants with the zipper halfway up and inevitable pain if he continued, he finally lifted his gaze, following it up over shiny shoes to pressed slacks in a color he was _very_ aware of, and all the way up the outfit he knew quite well, up to Henry's stunned face. Of all the people...

Ben relaxed a little. If there was anyone on cast that wouldn't hate him because of this, it was Henry. Their easy banter over Batman and Superman's hard-ons for one another made this a little easier if only he could just sort of let it slide off as some form of bringing their acting closer together. A happy accident instead of a genuine disaster wherein he got a lawsuit slapped on him for sexual harassment or some such utter bullshit. He went to reach for another piece of his outfit off the table, but Henry cleared his throat and Ben looked back up, pausing halfway there.

"I uh..." Henry was still staring _at_ him. Not away like he could have been, not leaving like etiquette probably dictated he should have been. No, he was very much still looking right at him.

A little thrill slid through Ben as he eased back without picking anything up, as he let his legs spread enough to make the obscene tent he was still making in his slacks more than obvious. He watched Henry's eyes slide down his body, let his vanity override sanity and flexed his cock so that it was straining against the fabric. His arms slid over the back of the couch, spreading and making him look a million times more relaxed than he really felt. There was the always the chance he was reading this wrong, that Henry would hate him forever for putting him on the spot like this; but there was _also_ the chance that he was reading it _very_ correctly. "Guess I should've locked the door..." he let the words trail off, a little smirk sliding over his lips as Henry's gaze flicked up to his mouth, then back down again. 

"I... should go." There was a split second in which Ben could see the very fragile hold Henry had on his reactions falter; could see the half step he took toward him before he spun around and reached for the door handle. 

"Don't." Ben was almost surprised by his own boldness, though he didn't fight it in the least. Once it was out there, he just went with it. Go big or go home; that's what he'd always been told and something he'd made it a point to live by. There was a moment in which he was sure Henry was going to leave anyway and then he heard the click of the lock on the door. Surprise filtered through him, though he kept it to himself for the time being. 

"If you're messing with me-"

"I'm not." Ben couldn't help but interrupt him, a shiver sliding through him in anticipation of what was going to happen. It could be anything - Henry watching him finish... them helping one another... or, God, Henry in his lap. Henry straining over him as he was about to cum. Henry-

Ben cut himself off, the intensity of his arousal leaving his hands trembling ever so faintly. It wasn't something he'd experienced in a good long time - though not without reason. It had been _years_ since he'd been with a man. Though, if he was honest, it had been a long time since he'd thought about anyone besides women like this in a while and he supposed realizing he wanted to fuck his co-star in very much same ways they'd been teasing about Batman and Superman wanting to shouldn't have come as much of a surprise. 

Henry turned back around and moved around the coffee table. He stopped a few feet away, leaving Ben looking up at him, waiting on any sign as to what Henry wanted out of this. When he got none, he took in a steadying breath and then went all-in, meeting Henry's gaze and holding out his hand, the very one he'd had wrapped around his cock. Henry took it without question and Ben didn't hesitate in guiding him to exactly where he wanted him, urging him astride his thighs, releasing his hand and letting his fingers slide up over Henry's thighs. "Guess it's not just _them_ anymore, is it?"

The hitch in Henry's breathing was confirmation enough, the way his hands came up to push Ben's shirt back open even more so. Their eyes met again and Ben could see a hundred things written in them, everything from confusion to fear and it backed him off just enough to make him realize there had to be conversation of this wasn't going to end with both of them looking one another in the face from here on out. He squeezed lightly at Henry's thighs and then reached up and grasped his hands, bringing them down to their sides, keeping both of them from distractions for the moment. "Hey..." Henry's gaze re-focused and Ben could see some of the clarity resurfacing from behind whatever else was going on up in there. "We don't do this unless we're both on the same page here. Nothing goes anywhere until we are... if it even does."

The words seemed to put Henry at ease, some of the tension fading from him and a breathy sigh of what could have only been relief leaving him. Ben gave his hands a gentle amount of pressure before he let them just loosely hang onto one another for the time being. "So... you caught me jerking off," he smirked at the instant morph into embarrassment Henry seemed at war with. The way he tried to hide his grin, the light that flickered in his eyes... this obviously wasn't just a new thing for him like it was for Ben. He pushed his tongue against his teeth and then let out a low whistle. "Oh man." He knew he didn't have to actually _say_ anything. 

Henry tensed a little, his gaze darting away and then back before he finally managed, "I didn't do it on purpose, if that's what you think."

Ben huffed out a little laugh. "Would it make a difference if I said I wouldn't have minded if it was?" He let go of Henry's hands, easing his own over the back of the couch, spreading himself out and putting himself on display once again. "I might have a bit of a thing for it. And, apparently, for you."

That got Henry's attention quickly, his eyes widening a fraction and then he was letting out a small relieved sound. Ben could feel the tension draining out of him, feel the way he was easing down against him. And then Henry's hands were on his chest, slowly dragging down over it as he moved on his lap, sliding forward until contact was made. Ben bucked his hips up, dragging himself over the evidence of Henry's own arousal. "Say the words..." he let it hang in the air between them, waiting on Henry's reply, waiting to hear him tell him he wanted this before he did a single thing more than this.

He watched Henry's throat work, watched as his eyelids fluttered shut, and _felt_ it as he gave a hesitant rock of his hips against Ben's own. A little pleasured sound bubbled up and - right behind it - "I want this. I want _you_." Henry's hands were on his shoulders a second later and he was grinding against him, hips jerking quick and hard as he leaned over him, head bowed, watching what was happening. The rush of words that came out right after were an honest surprise for Ben, not having expected the switch to be flipped just like that from nervous skittish Henry to explicit full-on desperate Henry. "Thought about this so many times since I met you. Thought about how big your cock would be and how much I wanted to _feel_ you like this." 

Ben moved then, heedless of anything else now that he had permission, now that he knew Henry was on board. He shoved one hand up into Henry's perfect Clark-Kent hair and _tugged_. Henry reached up for his glasses, about to remove them, but Ben caught his hand, breathing out, "Leave them," as he took advantage of his current physicality, reversing their positions on the sofa, easing Henry down against it and hovering over him with a dark little smirk. "Maybe Bruce wants a piece of Clark just as much as Ben does of Henry, hmm?" He let his hands press hard, moving down over Henry's chest and abdomen until he was cupping the bulge in his slacks, fondling over his balls and his cock, rubbing at it until Henry was arching up off the couch, rocking against his palm. "Tell me something," he breathed out, "did you get off thinking about it... or just think on it in passing?"

The hard jerk of Henry's hips told Ben what he wanted to know, but he still waited on the verbal answer, keeping the level of their interaction on simmer rather than boil as he waited him out. Finally, Henry's hands came to clamp on his biceps, pulling him down hard as he arched up, his feet digging into the couch as he strained upward. "Came so hard," he gritted out, their eyes meeting again, and this time Ben found the burn of blatant and undeniable arousal there, the unforgiving, unyielding sort of _need_ that he knew all too well. Nothing in the world was going to stop them from what was happening. Not another person somehow ending up in here and certainly not any sort of time constraints they'd both be billed for. It didn't matter. Nothing did in comparison to this.

Ben's fingers made fast work of opening Henry's pants. Once he had them unbuttoned and unzipped, he grasped both underwear and slacks and yanked them down to mid-thigh without hesitation. Henry's fingers worked his own down beneath his balls and then moved to grasp his ass, hauling him down hard against him. The instant they met, Henry's head fell back against the couch and his back arched. The moan that freed itself from his lips sent a shudder of pure _need_ down Ben's spine. He curled one arm under his back and fitted them against one another a bit better. His mouth found the flutter of Henry's pulse at his neck and he let his tongue make lazy patterns over it as he rocked his hips, reveling in this feeling he'd so long denied himself: the feeling of hard, masculine lines, of bulging muscles and straining tendons against his body. There was nothing soft about it and his body reacted with a flood of hormones he hadn't accomplished since his thirties. 

Henry's hand pushed into his hair, holding on as he began to buck up against him, each thrust bringing his cock sliding alongside Ben's own, each one leaving a little smear of wetness behind, telling of how much Henry obviously wanted this if he was turned on enough he was already leaking. Pulling back just the slightest - the burn in his scalp all too worth it - Ben caught Henry's mouth, swallowing down the moan he received for his efforts. Henry's tongue invaded his mouth within seconds and he kissed him back, sloppy and unyielding. Their hips rocked steadily, the sound of the springs in the couch testament to their actions. 

Ben drew away for a second, nipping at Henry's lower lip before making a path back down to his Adam's apple, laving over it with his tongue before coming back up to his mouth, instantly pushing his tongue back in. He never kissed like this with women, only when he was with a man did it devolve into such a raw state that tact or skill didn't matter anymore. With a man it was all about the act it represented, about the feeling of the other's mouth and tongue and teeth, about the way it spiked their lust with each lewd movement. He shifted then, grabbing Henry's hips and hunching over him to keep the kiss going as he began to outright thrust against him, as though he were fucking him. His cock slid down over his balls and nudged at his hole and he let out a half-snarl against Henry's mouth, moving faster, more turned on now than he could honestly keep level control on. He knew they couldn't now, knew there weren't any of the supplies they needed, but he'd be flat-out lying if he said he didn't want it something awful right then.

Henry's arm snagged around his shoulders, hauling him down closer, allowing him to rut against Ben's stomach. His head fell back, breaking the kiss, and Ben could feel the way every muscles was straining, the way his thrusts were nearly aborted attempts at what they were trying to be. And he _knew_... he knew what it was like to be that closer to orgasm, that close to the precipice and to want to go leaping off the other side. He watched Henry's face as they moved, watched the way his neck and chest flushed with the red of intense desire and he felt the way his nails dug into his shoulder, the blunt tips surely about to break skin. But it only added to it, only moved his own hips faster, only encouraged him to nudge right up against Henry's entrance again and again until, blessedly, Henry was falling apart beneath him. 

Ben watched the way Henry tensed the last little bit, the way his entire body trembled and then strained up hard as he began to lose it. His hips moved smoothly again, rolling up two, three, four times before he stilled, the warmth of his orgasm spurting up over Ben's abdomen. Reaching between them, he stroked him through it, leaning down to catch his mouth again, their tongues sliding over one another, Henry's more languid, Ben's more desperate. Just like that, he was aiming for his own end, hips snapping, cock pushing more forcefully against Henry's body, the slickness of his cum easing the way now. He could feel how hard Henry still was, his cock pressing up against him as he moved and he released a moan into his mouth, letting himself go. Two straining strokes and another slide... and the head of his cock pressed tight up against Henry's hole as he started to cum. The first throb sent a choked-off cry up his throat and the next urged his hips forward just enough that he could feel the slight give of his body beneath his cock. Pulling back, he thrust again, this time right up into his own hand, against Henry's spent length, a gasp of his name leaving his tongue as he spilled the rest of what he had to offer there, tight up against him.

Letting his tongue ease against Henry's own, he gave it a few more slow, lazy licks before he pulled back, doing his best to catch his breath as he studied the utterly debauched man beneath him. Through some miracle, they'd avoided getting anything on Henry's clothing and what they'd gotten on Ben's could be hidden away on the inside of his pants. He let a crooked little grin slip onto his face as their eyes met, finding a hazy sort of satisfaction in Henry's. 

He leaned down over him again, giving him a proper kiss this time, and when he pulled back, it was to stand up and start righting his clothing. "Well that's going to add some interesting heat between Clark and Bruce, isn't it?"

Henry choked out a half-laugh as he struggled upright, untangling himself from his clothing in order to stand up. "Nothing that hasn't been before. It just won't be one-sided now." 

Henry's arms slid around his waist and Ben leaned back into his touch, closing his eyes for a moment, taking a few more steadying breaths. "I'm not sure it ever was..." and he was _certain_ he wasn't talking about the movie anymore. "I just didn't realize it."

"Next time... realize it." Henry's arms slipped away and a moment later, the door was closing behind him, leaving Ben half-dressed, standing in the middle of his trailer with the scent of what they'd just done all around him. There would be, he decided, absolutely _no_ regrets and _definitely_ a repeat if he had anything to say about it. Because he was most assuredly _not done_ with one Mr. Henry William Dalgliesh Cavill.


End file.
